


Run Run Take All You Can Carry

by scarletazure



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor and Markus are memebois and you cant convince me otherwise, Gen, M/M, Other, RK1000 - Freeform, RUN RUN TAKE ALL YOU CAN CARRY, masquerades, meant to be a very short fic but oh well, rk1k - Freeform, sorry I kind of rushed this, vine references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:27:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25589845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletazure/pseuds/scarletazure
Summary: Based roughly on the Tumblr prompt 'I try to shoplift my favourite sweets and tuck too much of them into my jacket but I bump into you and they all fall to the ground so I scream RUN RUN TAKE ALL YOU CAN CARRY and you do and we hide somewhere and share the prey AU'Featuring Markus as a vigilante thief, Connor as a poor detective who's just tryna do his job, stolen sweets, masquerade balls, crime bosses and interrogations, with just a sprinkle of horrible pick up lines and vine references.
Relationships: Connor/Markus (Detroit: Become Human)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 62





	Run Run Take All You Can Carry

**Author's Note:**

> Based roughly on the Tumblr prompt 'I try to shoplift my favourite sweets and tuck too much of them into my jacket but I bump into you and they all fall to the ground so I scream RUN RUN TAKE ALL YOU CAN CARRY and you do and we hide somewhere and share the prey AU'
> 
> Meant to be a brief crack fic but I totally got carried away when I realised Connor probably wouldn't, quote, 'hide somewhere and share the prey', so there's that. Also, thief!markus is pretty much canon; that guy has some serious stealth skills, breaking into the Cyberlife stores, slipping through the window (NOT breaking the window and falling onto the floor loudly like a certain android AHEM) and causing a blackout, stuff like that. 
> 
> In any case, here you go. Sorry if it's rushed. Enjoy.

Markus knew the second he heard Josh suggest it that it was going to be a terrible idea.

“Go on, Marky,” Josh urged, knowing full well how much he hated the nickname. “Look, you’ve seen us do it plenty of times. It’s really not that hard.”

“I’m your _leader_ ,” Markus hissed, plopping down next to him on the leather sofa with Simon curled on the other end like a cat and North draped over the side, chewing on a piece of gum. "I do reconnaissance, I give you orders, stuff like that. Long story short: I work on the _sidelines_. I don’t do the actual stealing."

Jericho was something of a Robin Hood scenario, Markus thought - stealing from the rich, giving to the poor. Or, in this case, giving to their orphanage. That was why his conscience didn’t smart at him too much whenever they pulled off a successful heist, even if he knew the law didn’t exactly agree.

"Yeah, but you haven’t gone on your traditional solo orientation mission," North interjected, and Markus knew he was really doomed. North and Josh got along like cats and dogs, but when they agreed on something - which was practically never, but when it was it was usually to gang up on him - they were an unstoppable force of nature. “We all did it - hell, even Simon had his own little scuffle in that toy store.”

"But it's a little sudden, don't you think," Simon frowned, bless his little blond soul. "I mean, Markus joined ages ago, so why now?"

Markus pointed at him with a vigorous nod. "Yes! That's exactly what I've been trying to say! Simon, you're the best."

North let out a 'tch' sound, then rummaged around her pocket. "Simon, honey, I'll give you a piece of gum if you join our side."

"Oi, that's bribery! Simon, don't do it."

"Okay, fine," Josh said finally, and then snatched the packet of gum from North before Simon could take it, ignoring her protests. "You got us. Thing is these new sweets came out a while ago and they only sell it at this tiny corner store, but they are expensive as hell and, well, both North and I have gotten a lifelong ban-"

North snickered. 

"-long story, shut up North, it was your fault. Anyway, as I was saying, we got a lifelong ban from said store, and, look, the kids at the orphanage really want it, okay? Especially since it’s Clara’s birthday coming up, and you know her sweet tooth…”

Markus narrowed his eyes. “Then why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

North heaved a huge sigh as Josh rolled his eyes and popped gum into his mouth. “Because, Markus, it’s not exactly a lie that we’ve all stolen something solo and you haven’t. Or rather, you’ve refused to. You need a confidence boost.”

Markus chewed on his lip. Sure, ever since he joined Jericho he had only gone on team missions - they had stolen money, jewelry and had the occasional shoplift, but in all of those times he was doing the directing rather than the actual stealing. Either that, or charming his way into whatever they needed; getting a card key to the staff room, obtaining the blueprints to devise a strategy and make a getaway, convincing the store clerk to let them go unscathed. Whatever the case, he knew his teammates had his back, he knew that they were depending on him. But could he really do anything on his own?

“Come on,” North wheedled. “It’s a simple gig, even a baby could do it. Grab the sweets, and go.”

“Firstly, I’m pretty sure a baby can’t steal anything, let alone shoplift,” Markus said, “and secondly, ‘grab the sweets and go’ is possibly the worst strategy I’ve encountered.”

“Well, it worked for us,” Josh shrugged. “Basically what we did before you came along. Robbed from inconspicuous stores by snatching and running the hell away, donated anonymously to the orphanage. We only really started catching the big fish when you came along.”

Markus groaned. “It’s amazing how you guys haven’t gotten caught.”

Simon rolled over to face him and beamed, one of bright mega-watt cinnamon roll smiles that birds and animals naturally flocked to like Snow White. Markus’ head involuntarily pulled up an image of Simon in a poofy dress and a poisoned apple in hand and grimaced; Simon was oblivious to his inner turmoil. “Actually, we almost did get caught, many times. So we stopped for a while, but after your arrival, not only did our profits increase-”

“-but the police totally got off our asses,” North finished. “Although that means you’ve been so uptight that you haven’t even had a chance to try it our way. C’mon, loosen up a little.”

Markus stared at her incredulously. “ _Loosen up a little_? You guys just said you ‘almost got caught, many times’!”

“Just once,” Josh said. North nodded her head. “Do it our way, just once. It’ll be fun.”

“ _Fun_?”

“Do it for Clara,” North said, and Markus gave her a dirty look. She knew he was weak for the orphans, damn her.

“Fine, whatever,” Markus snapped as he relented, and North and Josh hi-fived triumphantly. Simon just leaned back onto the sofa with a comforting pat on the back. “Be careful, Markus. Good luck!”

Markus just buried his hands in his face with another groan.

North had sent him the coordinates of the store on his phone. _Grab and run, grab and run._ Markus repeated the mantra in his head, assuring himself that if Jericho had done this way before he had, it was a perfectly fine method. Don’t overthink, don’t chicken out. Do it for Clara.

 _Grab and run_.

The shop itself was bigger than expected. _Tiny corner store my ass_. _Damn you, Josh._ There were more people around than Markus was comfortable with - couples lugging carts filled with egg cartons and vegetables, adults being tugged by children into the sweet aisles, teenagers wandering aimlessly around picking up chips and soda and some occasional hagglers asking for booze and/or cigarettes. Pop music from the radio played tinnily on the speakers overhead, and Markus blocked out the chatter as he spotted the sweets North and Josh mentioned, wincing as he saw the price. Jeez, talk about daylight robbery. 

Markus snorted at that last ironic thought.

His eyes travelled, unbidden, to the row of chocolates beside it. Simon’s favourite - he had always loved those white chocolate hippopotamus snacks, even if he claimed he felt bad biting their heads off but they were too delicious to resist. And then the dark chocolate bar North loved because they were ‘as dark and bitter as her soul’, along with the chewy fruit gummies Josh loved to eat on hot days when the weather was unbearable and they snuggled in the living room with the AC on, all of them hungry as hell and deciding to order takeout on Markus’ phone.

Followed by Markus’ favourite caramel treats that Carl always used to treat him with after a particularly long, tired day.

Fuck it.

 _Grab and run_.

Markus, very obviously not in his right mind, realised recklessness and zero sense of self preservation ran quite rampant in his veins. He stuffed a handful of the sweets onto his arms and then into his jacket - _grab_ \- and then headed towards the entrance, quite nonchalantly. 

The moment he stepped out the alarms began blaring like crazy and the person at the cashier started yelling at him.

 _Run_.

Connor had just wrapped up the recent case on the crystal serial murders when it happened.

Intending to pop by the store for a quick bout of dog food for Sumo and perhaps a cup of coffee, he patted his hair back in place and pulled out a silver, metallic coin, flipping it back and forth effortlessly as he walked, eyeing the targeted store with a one track mind as he riffled through the possibilities of buying vegetables and convincing the Lieutenant to eat those instead of cup noodles.

His train of thought was very abruptly stopped short when a dark-skinned man came barrelling out of the store and right into him, both of them colliding so hard that Connor saw stars as he stumbled backwards, sweets spilling out of his black denim jacket and all over the hard gavel concrete.

“Stop right there!” yelled someone in the store’s uniform, running right after the man out of the store. Connor immediately pierced together what was going on as the man’s eyes widened frantically, but had no time to react as the man screamed at him.

“RUN RUN TAKE ALL YOU CAN CARRY!”

With that, he was off, and Connor, too taken aback, took a second to react.

“What the bloody- hey, wait, come back here!”

Connor gathered handfuls of the sweets that had fallen out and regained his bearings in record time the way only a detective could, sprinting after the man. At one point, the store employee had fallen behind, and Connor had to admit that this man was both fast and athletic as he dodged past passer-bys and cameras in a skilful way that spoke of experience and stamina. Connor gritted his teeth - he was faster than the man, but the man had not only a head start but a clear familiarity in how and where to move.

“Hey- stop!”

The man finally did as he ducked into an alleyway, panting and cursing up a storm. “Fuck Josh fuck North those assholes ‘simple job’ my ass what a terrible fucking idea this was oh god this is why-”

“Excuse me?” Connor interrupted incredulously, dumping the sweets on the floor. The man jumped, looking at him as if just seeing him for the first time, and Connor did a double take at the clear, brilliant heterochromatic eyes he saw staring back at him. Now that he had a better look at the assailant, the man was unfairly good looking - absolutely _unfairly_. Warm chocolate brown skin and those piercing, intense eyes; pale lips open in an attempt to get more oxygen and arched, set eyebrows knitted together in what looked to be annoyance; his hair was buzzed close to his scalp, stubble tracing along his jawline so sharp Connor would probably cut himself if he bit on it - not that he was planning to, or anything. Criminal. Right.

“Excuse me?” Connor repeated. “Care to explain yourself?”

“Uh,” said the ridiculously attractive man, like a deer caught in headlights. “Well.” 

Then he straightened up, all traces of fear, irritation, or urgency gone as he flashed a blinding smile at Connor, sticking out his hand. Connor glanced at it like it was poison and he was crazy. “Hello, nice to meet you. I’m Markus.”

Connor blinked at him slowly to make sure he had heard correctly. “Wh- I don’t need your name, you just stole from a store, I should be reporting you!”

“Now, now, don’t be like that,” the man - Markus, if that was even his real name - said, patting him on the hand. The spot where he touched him tingled, and Connor moved away like he had been burnt. “Here, you can have some of these sweets. In fact, please do have some of these sweets.” In a quieter tone which obviously wasn’t meant for Connor, he muttered, “Shouldn’t even have gotten anything for the assholes in the first place, anyway.”

Happily, he offered a chocolate bar to Connor, and a pack of fruit gummies. Connor considered throwing them back in his stupidly hot face as his brain to mouth filter temporarily slipped. “Are you _insane_? You do realise I’m a detective, and especially legally obliged to bring you in?”

Markus very obviously choked on his own saliva in his horror. “You’re a _what_?”

Connor took a deep breath and pulled himself together. This wasn’t like him - he needed to think rationally. He pulled out his badge and flashed it at the guy. “Look, I’m going to bring you in now, got it? Coorperate, and you just might get a reduced sentence. Now, please turn ar-”

“Connor, is that right?” Markus cut in, once again going from panic to an easy grin, and unfortunately Connor’s brain thought it was a good idea to construct several different scenarios in which the man was saying his name in various other circumstances. “I’m sure you can overlook it just this once. It’s just a few sweets, nothing too big - it won’t be missed, and besides, the store already has plenty of money and stock, what’s a few more gone?”

He was a good speaker, Connor would give him that. Not to mention there was just something compelling about the way he moved, spoke. Or was that just his gay showing at this point? Connor had no idea, but he convinced himself it didn’t matter.

“The law is the law,” Connor said firmly. “So I repeat, if you’d just- mmpffh!”

Markus had thought it a good idea to tear open and aim one of the fruit gummies right into Connor’s open mouth. The latter let out a strangled noise.

“There,” Markus said, satisfied. “Now you’ve aided and abetted. Is that how it works? I’m not sure. But anyway-”

Before he finished his sentence, he bolted off. Connor let out a string of expletives like he rarely did, swallowed the sweet before he could choke on it and was sent off on the chase: part 2.

“Markus, get back here!”

Things only got worse when he felt droplets beginning to rain down on him, soaking his jacket. Connor could feel the probability of him slipping and getting injured go well into the high rates, but Markus didn’t seem inclined to stop running at all - what a horrible sense of self-preservation. At one point when he nearly slid and tumbled into the drain, Connor was forced to stop and duck into a nearby convenience store, sopping wet and scowling.

“Shit.”

Markus stomped into the apartment, sopping wet and scowling.

“Shit!”

He flung the jacket full of sweets (he made sure Clara’s were safe and dry) before taking off and wringing out his hoodie shirt with a fierce vengeance, water splashing out in abundance with the wet fabric of his jeans still clinging to his skin. Josh, North and Simon looked at him in alarm, the latter rushing to get a towel to help him dry up and the former speaking up.

“Jeezus, Markus, what happened?”

“Your shit plan happened!” Markus all but howled, accepting Simon’s towel with a quick thanks and scrubbing the moisture out of his hair furiously. “Grab and run? _Grab and run_? Grab and run, my ass!”

North took the drenched shirt away from him to put it on a clothes hanger to dry. “Hey, slow down. What happened?”

“Nearly got busted by a cop, is what happened!” Markus growled. “Saw my face, got my name, and everything. Banged into him and then tried to bribe him with sweets.”

 _Shame there wasn’t any other banging going on_ , his mind supplied unhelpfully, and Markus waved the thought away with the deepening of his scowl. Sure, he was cute with his big brown puppy eyes and dark long lashes and high cheekbones with smooth skin and all, but he was still a _cop_. Thieves and cops weren’t exactly a match made in heaven. Much to his chagrin, none of them seemed too shaken up; even Simon just quirked his shoulders. “Happens all the time. Main point is, you got away.”

“What?!” Markus yelped. “But-”

“Just go take a shower,” North said, pushing him towards the bathroom as Josh took the sweets gleefully. “Before you catch a cold. Good job, and thanks for the sweets! Clara will be so happy.”

Markus stared at her. “ _Good job_ ? Good _fucking job_? That was a total shitshow!

“Congrats on your first solo steal, Markus!” Simon said happily, as if Markus hadn’t said anything, picking off one of the white hippopotamus chocolates and opening the packet to eat. Josh grinned and nodded in agreement next to him.

“ _CONGRATS_? Wha- GAHHHHHH!”

Markus finally gave up, throwing up his hands with a demonic yell and strode off to the bathroom, leaving a trail of water in his wake. He was _never_ shoplifting anything on his own again. Next up was Rose’s birthday - he would let Josh deal with that one.

By the time he finished his shower, Markus had calmed down considerably. Feeling bad for losing his temper, he offered their favourite sweets to them all as an apology, even if they had already started eating them - he was usually a calm person, but the adrenaline high had him overreacting a bit. He was still a bit disgruntled, though - not to mention his charms hadn’t worked on the cop. Connor. Not that he was narcissistic or anything; it was just that Markus prided himself on his persuasion skills, was all. Just like North had her badass moments, Josh his peaceful, non-violent ones and Simon his kind, empathetic ones. But Connor had been different - he had a sort of steel to him, an ingrained, unwavering sense of what to do; Markus could see it in his eyes, a mirror of the resolve he felt.

He guessed there was some grudging respect towards the detective. He had been hard as hell to get rid of, and Markus probably would’ve been caught if it wasn’t for the sudden stroke of luck with the rain. 

Besides, it couldn’t’ve been easy to resist the lure of free sweets. 

_Connor Anderson_ , Markus typed into his computer. A bunch of articles popped up, and his eyebrows practically shot into his hairline as he scrolled down.

“What’s that?” Josh peered across his shoulder, with a mouthful of gummies. “Graduated top of his class, promising young detective, solved over 5 cases in his first week...holy crap, this guy even solved the Lincoln serial murder case? Don’t tell me he was the cop you almost got caught by?”

“What?” Now he had the attention of both North and Simon. North catapulted over the edge of the sofa to squeeze next to Markus, with Simon crowding his other side and Josh still standing up, hands braced on either side of Markus’ shoulders behind the sofa. “Connor Anderson…” North read. “Damn, Markus, you didn’t tell me he was hot.”

“Yeah, because I was too busy trying _not_ to get arrested to notice,” Markus lied. North, seeing right through him as usual, gave him an unimpressed look.

“Oh - by the way, I have our next target,” Simon said suddenly, shifting the laptop from Markus’ lap to his own, opening up a new tab in the meantime. “Gracefield orphanage. There’s a masquerade auction coming up - we can get an emerald from there, it’s worth a lot. Markus, you wanna start getting ready? I think we’ve got to be extra careful - they have tons of additional security. There might be a cop or two there just in case.”

 _No problem._ Markus gave a smirk and nodded, watching Simon pull up the info on the auction and the orphanage. Back to familiar territory - a masquerade? Right up his alley.

“Alright. I’ll see what I can come up with. In the meantime, Josh, can you head over and hand the sweets to the kids before we finish them all? Record their reactions, if possible. That'd be great. Simon, please hack into the database to get the blueprints of the venue. North, you and I will go and get the invitations and supplies. C’mon, let’s go.”

All three of them nodded in affirmation, before complying. “Alright, Markus.”

  
  


The ballroom was a vast, expansive, brightly-lit room with large golden dome ceilings that seemed to stretch on endlessly. 

Formally dressed people decked in colourful masks of all shapes and sizes were mingling on the dance floor, buffet bar lined with cloth at the side with plates of delectable looking dessert and food piled upon the table; sparkling crystal chandeliers glinted off the lights as they hung overhead, tantalising and pretty, casting dancing rainbows onto the surface below. The floor itself was marbled - shoes and heels clacked softly over the din of pleasant chatter and classical music, smooth tiles solid underneath his feet as Connor adjusted on the tie of his suit, then checked his mask one more time, for good measure. 

His raven black mask itself was plain and simple, not too ornery or attention-attracting but crafted well enough to fit in. He sighed and accepted the glass of champagne that was offered to him, despite having no intention to drink on the job; he was a detective, not a bodyguard, yet here he was anyway. But that was fine - after all, it wasn't exactly his place to question orders given to him. Amanda would’ve thrown a hissy fit if he did. Not that he was under her control anymore, but old habits die hard. 

Vaguely, he wondered what the shoplifter that had slipped out of his grasp the other day was doing. Markus. He didn’t seem experienced in shoplifting, but he definitely seemed to have experience escaping from people. Connor shouldn’t have let him go; he should’ve made sure-

"Are you going to drink that, or are you just going to keep trying to find the cure to cancer by staring at that potted plant?"

Connor whirled around, something about the voice ringing alarm bells inside his head. The person greeting him was - Connor berated himself for the comparison, but he couldn't help it - built eerily similar to the exact same person he had just been brooding about. Their heights were roughly the same, skin tone the same shade of warm brown. But the difference was this guy's eyes were a solid dark chestnut colour - both of them. Connor stiffened and shifted a little; he had no time to be making chit chat or to be distracted by what looked to be a very toned and fit man with legs for days and a suit that hugged his ass almost sinfully, but he couldn't arouse suspicion either. 

"If the cure to cancer could be found in a potted plant, I would stare at it for as long as it took," Connor eventually replied, reprimanding himself for checking him out so obviously.

The mystery man snorted indelicately. His mask was almost the stark opposite of Connor's, the intricate silver lining the stark white of his mask in an elaborate pattern. "I suppose that _would_ be the case, wouldn't it? So, any reason in particular you're treating the champagne like poison?"

_Because I'm on the job._

_Because I don't like the taste._

_Because it reminds me of Hank and his horrible drinking habits._

_Because Amanda never allowed me to drink._

He couldn’t say any of that.

"In case I need to pour it down the shirt of someone bothering me," Connor offered passive-aggressively instead, as politely as he could. Maybe this way the man would get the hint and leave him alone. 

Welp, it looked like his social skills had failed again - if anything, the man just tipped his head back and laughed, clear and free, absolutely unfazed by Connor’s apparent unfriendliness. He had a nice laugh, Connor would give him that. 

"Well, I'll send my condolences to whoever ends up going home with a shirtful of sticky alcohol if I'm not too busy trying not to laugh."

"Why would you laugh?" Connor asked, genuinely confused. 

The man seemed to take that as a joke, though, and just cracked a smile. "Either way, I have no such qualms. If anyone bothers me, a good punch in the face will do just fine, don't you think?"

"That's-"

“I’ll take this, thank you,” the man said, swiftly plucking a wine glass from the waitress’ tray, giving her a grin that had her turning red and rushing away. Connor winced in second-hand embarrassment, although he couldn’t really blame her. 

“Are you here for the auction?” 

Connor bit his lip. “In a way,” he said vaguely. “You?”

The man flashed a strangely predatory smile. “Yup.” 

Connor got that there was some deeper meaning behind the words, but wasn’t too much inclined to read into it. “I see.”

There was a silence, in which Connor realised he was supposed to be making small talk. Standing around without saying anything might raise suspicions. Quickly going through his database of acceptable topics, he settled on, “I like dogs.”

The man gave a start and stared at him. “Come again?”

“I like dogs,” Connor repeated, “Do you?”

“Yeah, I do,” the man said, sounding equal parts baffled and amused, “Though I’m rather partial to cats, myself.”

“Hm.” Connor made an interested noise at the back of his throat. 

“What do you do, then?” the man asked. “You work with dogs?”

“No. However, that doesn’t sound too unpleasant.”

The man titled his head curiously, eyes wide. _Like a cat_. “Then what do you work as?”

Connor considered the question. “Law.”

Not exactly the truth, but not far from it. Detective work _was_ law enforcement, after all. 

“Oh, like an attorney?” The man sounded impressed. Connor neither confirmed nor denied the statement. “Well, now I know who to call if I ever wind up with my ass in jail,” the man joked, although there seemed to be a note of seriousness in his voice. That wasn't the only odd thing about the man; Connor noticed that he didn’t really fit the profile of the rest in the ballroom. For one, his suit was slightly disheveled, his body language open instead of closed and controlled like most of the other elites socialising or forming connections. His word choices were crass, too, and didn’t seem to be too guarded. If anything, that just set Connor more on his guard. As Amanda once said, those who appeared non-threatening were perhaps the most threatening of them all. 

He couldn’t help but take a liking to the guy, though. He couldn’t.

“Depends on why you’d be in jail in the first place,” said Connor.

“Probably by charming someone to death,” the man winked.

Connor raised an eyebrow. “Since that’s obviously not happening anytime soon, I assume you won’t be needing my services.” 

The man very obviously smothered a grin as he feigned hurt, clutching his chest. “What? How could you hurt me this way? I’ll have you know I have been described as lovely and likeable by many!”

“Do those ‘many’ happen to be your friends or family? Because there’s bias, you know.”

“I came out to have a good time and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now.”

Connor blinked, and then modified his voice to mimic what he had heard on the internet. “I understood that reference.”

“Ah, captain America? Nice.”

“Talking about Captain America, if you’re looking to read a Winterhawk fic, here’s some shameless promo from the author! It’s called [Russian, Lifts and Gay Disasters](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25505614), at https://archiveofourown.org/works/25505614-”

“What?”

“Nothing, sorry. Fourth wall break.”

“Oh my _gosh_ are those tortillas?” The man had gotten distracted, now staring at the buffet bar with a scarily focused look in his eye. “I can’t believe they serve tortillas in such a fancy place. Hey, I’m going to get some, do you wa- oh, hey, is that the waitress from before?” He cut off to give the waitress a small wave, but winced almost immediately after. “Oof.”

Connor followed his gaze to see the waitress had stumbled upon seeing his wave, crashing into the buffet bar and knocking over a good few sandwiches, attracting stares from those around her as she hurriedly tried to clean up. Beside him, the man seemed to have an epiphany. “Hurricane Katrina? More like-”

“-hurricane _tortilla_ ,” Connor finished automatically, and the man gave him such a bright, delighted grin so reminiscent of Markus that Connor almost did a double take. 

He seriously needed to stop comparing people to that thief. The man turned back to the fumbling waitress.

“We should probably go help her, though.”

“Yeah.”

  
  


“Here you go.” Markus offered the poor lady a napkin which she took with a flustered thanks. Meanwhile, Connor gathered up the fallen food and cleaned up the rest of the floor. 

The second he had locked eyes with the detective’s hazel, cocoa irises, he had known who it was. The rigid, almost military posture, the sweet, smooth silky voice with the pretty formal speech pattern. Somewhere he acknowledged it wasn’t exactly normal to recognise someone behind a mask after only one brief meeting in which he was on an adrenaline high, but he doubted his situation was anything normal.

“Connor Anderson’s here,” Markus had informed the rest of his team through his earpiece as he walked towards the man, and Simon had made a small squeak of alarm. “I’ll keep him distracted, but watch out. He can’t be the only cop here.”

Josh had protested. “What if he recognises you?”

“I’m wearing my stupidly itchy contacts,” Markus had assured him. “He won’t.”

North hadn’t said anything, which was a first; Markus got the sense she was going to give him an earful later on.

Although, if he was being honest, he didn’t even know why he was so tempted to talk more to the detective. It was an dangerous, idiotic thing to do, but then again, Markus wasn’t exactly unfamiliar with dangerous, idiotic things to do. 

After the waitress finished and scurried away with her face so red Markus was concerned it was about to explode, Connor stood up and dusted himself off. Markus admired the subtle way he always kept one eye surveying the room, which Markus himself wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t looking for it. Cop or not, the guy was good at his job.

He also admired several other things, but those were much shallower and he probably should get himself under control. 

...that suit really was unfair.

“I’m in and I’ve cut the cameras,” Simon said over his intercom. “Josh, you’re good to go.”

Markus piled macarons onto his plate. A lot more than one would normally do, but then again, it wasn’t everyday he got to dig into a buffet, right? He looked up to see Connor eying his plate with a weird look.

“You’re going to get diabetes. One macaron typically has 70-100 calories; it contains very high sugar levels, and the fructose can overwhelm your liver and cause insulin resistance when eaten in-”

“Right. So can I get a waffle?” Markus interrupted. Connor didn’t stop - he had a freaky amount of health knowledge about macarons. “Can I _please_ get a waffle? The waffles are behind you.”

Connor broke off and moved with an eye roll so he wasn’t blocking the way any longer, leaving Markus clear to pile even _more_ unhealthy food onto his plate. “Fine, but I’m doing it for the vine.”

Damn. He was on. “You know, when the waitress fell over just now, that must’ve hurt like a buttcheek on a stick.”

“Indeed.” Connor countered. “That girl was thicker than a bowl of oatmeal.”

Markus choked on his macaron crumbs in laughter. The sheer _shamelessness_ of this guy.

“Yeah, when I saw her lying on the floor, I though ‘Oh my fuckin' god, she fuckin' dead’.”

His intercom crackled. “Markus, please stop flirting with cringey vines.”

As if North hadn’t said anything, Markus added, “Oh it would be fitting if her name was Keisha.”

“Yes. if that were to be the case, I would be shooketh.”

Josh’s disdain was palpable in his ear. “I’m with North here. This is horrible. No, what’s really horrible is that the other guy is actually responding.”

Markus gave both of them a mental middle finger, and he almost missed Connor’s response of “that would be legitness”.

The deadpan manner of which Connor gave his responses was absolute gold. God, _why_ did he have to be a cop? He could be a toilet bowl cleaner for all Markus cared - anything but police. Where else was he going to find someone so stupidly hot and witty and who actually got his vine references?

Then again, he was likely straight anyway, so.

“Markus, it’s almost time for the auction,” North reminded him before he could lament too much. “Can you get closer to the front of the room at the stage? You’ll need to pass the dance floor.”

“I got it,” Markus replied without moving his lips as the orchestra struck up a new [ song ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vauo4o-ExoY). “Simon, have you cut the alarms?”

“Yes,” Simon affirmed.

“Then,” Markus said, at normal volume this time. Connor looked at him inquisitively, until Markus extended one hand with much more confidence then he felt. “Would you care to have this dance with me, dear stranger?”

Connor stared at him like he had grown an extra head and Markus wanted to smack himself. “I mean- uh- it’s fine if you don’t want to, it’s- I know two men dancing together might be a bit weird- not, not that I’m calling you homophobic or anything-”

“Smooth,” Josh snorted. Markus made a mental note to bash his head in the next time he saw him.

“No,” Connor stopped Markus’ babbling, “It’s not that. It’s just that, I’m sort of on a job.”

“Job?” Markus pretended to have no idea what he was talking about. “I mean, one dance can’t hurt, right?”

Connor dithered, hovering uncertainly.

“Please? You’re much more entertaining than the rest of these pretentious rich people here.”

Markus could pinpoint the exact moment Connor gave in. 

“Well..okay.”

Connor’s hand was warm in his as Markus all but dragged him to the dance floor, feeling strangely like he was cheating somehow. After all, he knew it was Connor, but Connor didn’t know it was him. 

_No, no, focus_. He wasn’t here to seduce pretty detectives, he was here to steal a jewel. Jericho was counting on him.

It started out awkwardly as the two of them tried to figure out where to place their hands, before Markus finally just pulled Connor in and they fell in step, waltz playing in a 3-3 time, echoing throughout the room. They were about the same height, so it wasn’t too hard; in fact, they slid in place so nicely Markus almost entertained the idea of dancing with him voluntarily again, with Connor knowing full well who he was this time.

No, that was a terrible idea.

One two three, one two three.

Even if this man, seemingly stiff as a rod from afar, was an exceptional dancer. 

One two three, one two three.

They said the way one danced reflected one’s character.

One two three, one two three.

Markus had attended events like this with Carl many times, so naturally he’d had his fair share of dances. 

But Connor - Connor was unlike any pretty lady he had danced with before. He had the pretty part down, sure, and smoking hot too; but if dancing with them was like a drizzle of rain, dancing with Connor was like a rainstorm. If dancing with them was a collaboration, dancing with Connor was a battle. Connor moved with poise, with elegance, with control; Markus moved with carelessness, with a confident sort of finesse, with a relaxed feel in his stance. Connor pushed; Markus pulled. Connor’s movements were commanding and skilful; Markus’ movements were large and with feeling.

Neither of them were willing to let the other take charge, though. 

When Connor tried to direct, Markus held stubbornly still, moving to the side to angle them closer to the stage. When Markus tried to dip Connor, Connor propped himself forward to reverse their positions, dipping Markus down instead. Not to mention their proximity was a heady thing - Markus could smell a faint whiff of cologne, vanilla, and a sharp metallic edge to the soft floral scent. This man was practically a walking inhalant, Markus thought a little hazily, and he was _this_ close to becoming an addict.

It was only thanks to the voices in his ear did Markus keep grounded as Connor did a particularly complicated move that involved them nearly grinding up against each other. Markus felt his soul leave his body; the music welled up in a crescendo.

Josh brought him back to life. “I’ve almost got it. North, have you secured our escape route?”

“What do you take me for? Of course.”

Josh’s breath was heavy, and there was a distinct click and a beep as he continued, Markus only half-listening as he did a spin to avoid stepping on Connor’s foot and Connor used the momentum to twirl him into his arms, with the former’s breath catching. “Okay, so let’s run this through one more time. Markus will reach the edge of the stage right as the auction starts. They’ll bid for the emerald that’s been replaced by a fake as he slips backstage and passes me the keycard he swiped from the guard earlier, to get out through the back where North is waiting for us. Simon, you’re all good with your hacking, right?”

“I’d prefer it if you don’t refer to my work as ‘my hacking’, but yes, sure,” Simon said, sounding amused. “The security cameras all around are disabled. We’re good to go.”

“People are staring,” Connor said suddenly, talking for the first time since they started dancing as Markus just narrowly avoided leaning into a trust fall by manoeuvring Connor into a lift on which Connor was anything but cooperative. Markus gave a start and looked around, and sure enough, there were quite a few other couples giving them death glares and/or interested looks at the same-sex couple on the floor. Markus bit his lip and stepped away; he hadn’t meant to make Connor uncomfortable, especially since Markus was already distracting him from his job with impure intentions. Plus, it wouldn’t do to stand out too much either.

“Sorry.”

“What?” Connor seemed puzzled that he moved away so suddenly, and sidestepped to avoid a twirling couple revolving around them. “Why?”

“Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not,” Connor said bluntly. “I’m not saying I care that they’re staring, I was just making an observation. I’ve always found that these wealthy assholes are more inclined towards homophobia anyway.”

Markus had to try really hard to suppress his bark of laughter at not only the sudden and frank cursing but also the fact that he had made no attempt to lower his voice. Several others around them cast scandalised looks at them. 

Just as he was about to wrap his hand around Connor’s back and grab his other arm again did the music crash to a stop. Markus almost felt disappointed, until he recalled that _Connor. Was. A. Cop_.

Why did he keep forgetting that?

COP, THIEF.

BAD MARKUS.

“I’ve got to go,” Markus said apologetically despite himself. Connor cast him a confused look. “Go where? Don’t you want to dance another song?”

The words _I would_ hovered tantalisingly at the tip of his tongue but he bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying it. Bowing down slightly to press his lips to Connor’s hand lightly in a bid farewell, he left, blending seamlessly into the crowd the way only one would when he was used to [ blending in with humans ](https://www.pinterest.com/pin/532198880967114322/).

Then he immediately facepalmed.

_Keep it together, Manfred! Why the fuck did you kiss his hand like some sort of dim-witted 19th century knight propositioning his maiden? Now you know his skin tastes a little like cherries and that he feels just as smooth as he looks - wait, no! Manfred, you dumbass, pull yourself together. Eye on the prize. You’re only using him as fuel for the jewel. Oh hey, that was a rhyme. No, not the point!_

Breaking out of his internal monologue, he strode backstage with the air of someone who was not in the midst of a mental breakdown and instead a functioning, charismatic person, bypassing the security guard with a hastily put together fake pass and a self-assured grin on his face like he owned the place. Outside, he heard the emcee start talking; the bid was going to begin soon. After that, it was only a matter of time until they found out the jewel was a fake, and the cops - including Connor - would be right on their asses.

They had until then to make their escape.

Josh was skulking around so suspiciously backstage it was a miracle no one else had called to sic the cops on him. When he spotted Markus, he relaxed, just minutely. “They’re going to realise something wrong’s soon. We need to go.”

“I know,” Markus said, pulling out the keycard and swiping it after making sure no one was in the vicinity. “But there are still guards on the perimeter. There’s the fewest from this back exit, but they’re still there.”

“We need to wait, right?” Josh murmured, as Markus cracked the door open and walked out stealthily, ducking behind the pillar as Josh took the pillar beside him, obscuring them from the guards’ view.

“Yes,” Markus said lowly. He thumbed out his irritating as hell contacts, to the relief of his eye, and dropped in on the floor, cracking it beneath his heel with a satisfying crunch. “You made it so it would soon be obvious the jewel was a fake, right? So once they’re told about the robbery - which we’ll know, since we can hear their radio from here - they’ll naturally be on high alert. North’s help set up the explosive about 300 yards away from them, I’ve got the detonator here.” He flashed a small red button from underneath his suit. “When they go to check it out, we make a break for it towards North.”

“What?” Josh hissed, just like Markus knew he would. “You didn’t say anything about a _bomb_.”

“Calm down. It’s all bark, no bite; we just need the noise as bait. It’s not a [ dirty bomb ](https://i.redd.it/eu16dvprak211.jpg) or anything near that caliber - no one will get hurt..”

“Yeah, it better not be,” Josh said with a shiver. “That’s stuff straight outta my nightmares, when North finally influences you to burn a whole country down.”

“Hey!” came North’s mildly distorted voice, as Simon made a grunt of agreement with Josh. Markus scoffed.

“That’ll never happen.”

From further away, there was a crackle of static, interrupting their conversation. Inside, loud and frantic voices were sounding; Markus wondered if Connor’s was one of them. As the guards were informed about the situation, with North and Simon wishing them luck over the mic, Markus pressed the button.

 _Boom_.

“Go go go!”

Markus felt, rather than knew, what was going to happen right before things went wrong. Josh had dashed ahead with the emerald before Markus could stop him; the guards had left their post, much more easily than expected - a little too easily. He had predicted needing to set off a second smoke explosion, so why-?

His question was answered when the whole place lit up in a blinding red as Josh crossed the grounds, ear-splitting wail of the alarm threatening to burst his eardrums apart.

“Shit,” cursed Markus.

“SHIT!” yelled Josh.

“Oh no,” said Simon.

“Holy _fuck_ ,” supplied North.

“Josh, move!” Markus bellowed, shoving Josh away as the guards came rushing back from the distance. He yanked out his intercom and stomped it under his foot until it broke.

“Give me your gun, get to North, get the hell out of here! Don’t come back, I can handle myself, hurry up and _go_!”

Josh handed over his gun. “But-”

“GO! That’s an _order_!”

Josh cast him a final anxious look and disappeared into the abyss of the night, as the guards finally caught up to Markus, spotlights and guns trained on him all at once.

“Drop your weapon and turn around,” came a very familiar voice. Markus complied, very slowly, only to face down a barrel of a gun and a few very pissed cops, with one certain cop understandably a lot more pissed than the others.

It was him.

Markus. The man was Markus. He must’ve been wearing contacts earlier - foolish, _foolish_ for Connor to have assumed they were two different people just because of their eye colours. Instead, he had stupidly gotten charmed and used by a _thief_ , a _shoplifter_ , a _Jericho_ member.

Yes, as the icing on the cake, he was a _Jericho_ member. The small J on the side of the emerald had confirmed it; a few years ago, vigilante Robin Hood-esque petty theft and robberies cropped up - stealing from the rich, and although there was no proof, suspected of giving donations to both charities and organisations. Always with a curved J left behind, their police force had dubbed them Jericho.

Hank confessed, once, that he was secretly rooting for them. “Not like those rich pricks spend their money on anything other than strippers and parties, anyway,” he had said. 

Connor had disagreed. A crime was a crime… right?

Quite recently and abruptly, Jericho had been pulling off bigger and bigger heists successfully, much to the delight of the masses (Jericho was very popular). It was very impressive, and the psychological profiles had suggested the addition of a new, talented member, but Connor knew it was bound to be a matter of time before they slipped up and here it was - in the form of a very handsome twat. 

Connor’s eyes burned holes through the glass of the interrogation room. Markus was cuffed to the table, gun confiscated, mask gone, suit even messier and crumpled than it had been before. Perkins was the first to interrogate him; needless to say, it had _not_ gone well. Perkins and Markus just didn’t click - all it had done was humiliate Perkins and make him look like a fool, leaving Perkins red-faced and storming off. Markus was currently leaning back in a relaxed way, lazily, like a prowling cat would, as Gavin slammed his hands down on the table.

“I’ll ask you again - _who are you working with and where’s the emerald_?”

Markus raised an unimpressed eyebrow, assertion etched on every inch of his posture, voice. Cocky, almost, and it must’ve seemed that way to everyone else, but not to Connor - Connor was trained, he was familiar with this man, he had danced with him. Connor could see the tense line in his shoulders, the whiteness in his knuckles, the tightness in his jaw.

“Can I talk to Detective Anderson?” Markus said, breaking him out of his thoughts.

Connor grimaced. Markus knew his name; of course he did. Why was he asking for him? Did he really come off as such an easy manipulation target? Feeling annoyed at that, Connor entered the room, jerking his head at Gavin to the door. “As much as you know I love our double act, Gavin, please get out.”

Gavin growled. “Why you-”

Connor ignored him. “I must say, your eyebrows are on fleek today. Th-”

“-the f*ck, we in this b*tch, gonna get krunk,” Markus finished, under his breath. Connor allowed himself to momentarily revel in the confused scowl Gavin gave the both of them before leaving, flipping them both off.

Connor turned to Markus. 

“Don’t think just because you decided it was a good idea to dance with me that I’m going to give you special treatment in any way,” Connor said harshly.

Markus’ smile didn’t falter. “I would never think that, detective.”

"Good, _Markus_. Is that even your real name? The database search for Markus-es with your face hasn't yielded any results."

"It _is_ ," Markus insisted. "I'm officially dead, though, so that’s probably why. You might want to expand your search."

Connor narrowed his eyes, careful not to look away from those brilliant clear green blue orbs no matter how much he tried not to get lost in them. "Care to elaborate?"

Markus shrugged. "Not really."

Connor brought his hands down on the table, not as hard as Gavin had earlier, but much more suddenly and loudly. Markus flinched almost imperceptibly. "Listen here, _Markus_. That wasn't a question - you're in a police station, at this point it's not a matter of _when_ you go to jail, but _how_. As I've told you that time you decided to shoplift from that store, you might just get a reduced sentence if you're cooperative. There's no sense in being _stubborn_."

Markus lowered his gaze to a spot on the floor behind Connor, pointedly silent. Well, looks like the aggressive method wasn't going to work; he should've expected that. Pushing the chair out to sit down, Connor leaned back and regarded Markus coolly, who looked taken aback - and disoriented - at the sudden change in attitude. 

"You've gotten away from me once, lied to me, played me for a fool, and then continue to jeopardise my career. The least you could do is offer me some truth."

That wasn't strictly true - his career wasn't the slightest dependent on making him crack, though it would be helpful. Plus, it wasn't Markus' fault Connor had let down his guard, but if Markus believed it, the better. The people carrying out the Jericho thefts were profiled as highly empathetic, and from what Connor had seen, that was true to an extent; if he had to use an underhanded tactic like guilt tripping and psychological manipulation, he would do that. Now if only he didn't keep getting distracted by the man's open collar, exposing his collarbone. 

Sure enough, Markus’s fists clenched and flexed, eyes meeting Connor’s again. “Markus Manfred. Go get my file.”

 _Manfred_?

“Manfred?” Connor echoed. “Isn’t that-”

“Yeah,” Markus muttered with a diminutive self-deprecating laugh. “Adopted. Not common knowledge.”

Connor made a gesture to the outside for them to get the file. _Establish a rapport_. “If it helps, I’m adopted too.”

If Markus had been a cat, his ears would be perked in surprise. “Really?” he asked curiously. 

“Mm. To a retired cop. He used to be my partner.”

“Father-son partnership, huh? Must’ve been epic.”

The door opened, and Connor accepted the orange file, scanning through briefly before tossing it onto the table. “Markus Manfred, deceased. Caretaker and adopted son of Carl Manfred, who was a renowned painter and artist, paralysed in an accident and passed away from a heart attack. Injured and subsequently killed for the assault on Leo Manfred, Carl Manfred’s biological son.”

“Markus Manfred, very not deceased. Tada!” Markus did jazz hands, expression deadpan. “Caretaker and _son_ of Carl Manfred, the kind man who taught him to live and whose accident didn’t diminish his brilliance in the slightest. Injured and subsequently _not_ killed for the _alleged_ assault on Leo Manfred, Carl Manfred’s biological son and an all around arsehole that can go rot in a ditch.”

Connor digested the information, leaning against the wall in thought. “Well, then, Markus, tell me this - what exactly happened after that? Weren’t you gunned down?”

Markus’ mouth twisted bitterly. It was a new expression on the man, one Connor wasn’t sure he liked. “Yes. I got patched up, I had to find a way to survive, so I resorted to stealing.”

Connor fixed him with a stare. “Is that so? Is that why Jericho has been donating so generously to orphanages and charities and who knows what? For survival?”

Markus shot up, leaning forward in his chair; his chains linked to his handcuffs rattled. “Wh- how did you know about that?”

“Had a suspicion; you just confirmed it. After all, do you have that little faith in the investigative abilities of our police force? The same amount of money stolen by Jericho suddenly cropped as an anonymous donation? It’s not a big leap, even if we don’t have concrete proof.”

Markus made a face. “Right. That makes sense.”

“So you were working alone, is that it?”

Markus didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Connor flipped open the file and shoved it pretty unceremoniously under his nose. “Think again. The Jericho thefts were already going on long before your ‘death’, even if they were only minor petty thefts, shoplifting and the occasional robbery. I can only conclude that you joined afterwards. Furthermore, shortly after that day, Jericho showed drastic changes. A bank was targeted for the first time; the planning and execution of the heist was analysed and shown to be extremely different. And therefore, even though there have been reports of only three Jericho members, it is safe to conclude that a new member, a fourth one, joined recently. That would be you, Markus.”

Markus pushed away the file defiantly. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

Connor sighed. Markus wasn’t deterred; he leaned even further across the table. “Connor, listen to me. Our society is shit. The rich throw away their money; the poor suffer. Both because of the circumstances life dished out to them - circumstances they _can’t control_. The world scorns them, they have so many physical, _mental_ health issues; life is nothing but suffering to them, victims of their situations. Connor, it’s not _fair_.” He spat out the word, passion born out of spite, sourness, bitterness, blazing in the depths of his multi-coloured eyes. “But I have that control. I have that _power_ to make a change. _We_ can make a change. _All_ of us can.”

Connor wavered. “Th...that doesn’t give you the right to steal.”

“I’m not saying it _does_ , but really, these people spend their money on designer dresses and expensive watches and luxury cruises while there are people starving to _death_ , families torn apart by the inability to pay for medical fees, lonely, abandoned children feeling unwanted and worthless as other kids laugh and play with their toys and hug their parents.” Markus scoffed. “I mean, really? Okay, to be fair, not all of them are like that - Carl certainly wasn’t. But if something that will barely be missed, a few dollars in a bank with billions, a few sweets from a store with a dozen others, if that _little_ bit can make such a huge difference to another person...tell me, Connor, am I really the one at fault here, or is it our world?”

Connor stuttered. “I…”

“Get yourself together, plastic prick!” came Gavin’s voice on the outside. 

“Your colleague is lovely,” Markus said dryly, though seeming a little bit irritated at the interruption. “Plastic prick? What’s that about?”

“They call me a machine,” Connor explained, gladly grabbing onto the change in topic. “A robot. Android. Things like that.”

Markus gave him a slow, deliberate once over that had his cheeks aflame. “A machine? I can’t see that at all.”

“I- well. You’d be the first. Even Hank called me that, a first.”

“Hank?”

“...my father. He used to be a lieutenant; he was a very talented detective.”

The information slipped out before he could stop it, but no matter, it might help to gain trust.

“Huh.” Markus blinked at him. “That must be where you get it from then.”

There was a groan from the outside - Gavin. “Oi, stop flirting with the guy and get to the point!”

Connor glowered at him, embarrassed. Markus shifted sheepishly. “Fine. Markus, the guards reported another man fleeing the scene. I can only assume it was another member of Jericho. Who is he?”

“I worked alone,” Markus said firmly. “He was a passer-by; I threatened him with my gun and told him to escape with the emerald just as I tripped the alarm, or else I would come for him. I don’t know where the jewel is now. That’s it.”

“So we’re just supposed to believe you cut the cameras all on your own? And that, somehow, while you were with me - as a distraction, no doubt - you were magically in two places at once, able to steal the emerald? And that your passer-by had a very convenient means of escape, as the guards searched for him but he was nowhere to be found?”

“You really are a very good detective, Connor. But no, you don’t have to believe it, because it’s the truth.”

Connor refused to replay the way his name rolled off Markus’ playful, rumbling baritone, instead directing his attention to the other words. “So the truth is you were magically in two places at once?”

Markus honest-to-goodness _stuck out his tongue_. “Very funny. You know what I mean.”

“Do-”

“Connor.” Markus didn’t let him finish. “I need to ask you something.”

Thrown by the out of nowhere seriousness, Connor took a while to reply. “What is it?”

Markus stared him dead in the eye, looking like a man who knew he was one step away from checkmating his opponent. Connor nearly backed away; the man was playful, charming, sure, but he was also shockingly level-headed and thoughtful. If he had an ace up his sleeve, which it seemed he did, it was going to be good. “I do actually have a plan to get out of here, you know. Do you know of the name Zlatko?”

Connor’s eyes widened; Gavin, who was listening, let out a strangled yell from the outside. Zlatko was a crime boss - _the_ crime boss, illegal activities ranging anywhere from drug to human trafficking. His cases weren't typically public knowledge. “How do you know that name?”

Markus shook his head. “The question is, how much does the _police_ want to know?”

“Very,” Connor murmured. Captain Fowler had instructed them to give Zlatko high priority - higher than Jericho. “Do you know where he is?”

“Here’s my proposal.” Markus smirked confidently, but Connor knew it was mostly false bravado; his everything was riding on this move. “You give me, and my friends, immunity in exchange for his whereabouts.”

“Your...friends?” Connor repeated, with a smirk of his own. “Jericho? Didn’t you say you working alone?”

Markus had the good grace to look chastened. “Yeah, well. Do you want him or not? Give me my phone call - which I’m legally entitled to, by the way - and I’ll have it for you. If you agree to the deal.”

How exactly did Markus know where a guy who’s been escaping police capture for years was? In any case, he needed to consult his boss before he could make a decision; Connor stood up and left the room, disregarding Markus’ ‘hey, where are you going?’.

Markus fidgeted with bated breath as Connor left the room, praying to whoever was listening that this would work. It was a last resort plan that would put Kara in danger if Zlatko somehow managed to flee police custody, which he didn’t feel comfortable doing, even though Kara had assured him it was okay; Kara had Alice to protect, just like Markus had Jericho to protect, and that was the reason he had told Kara he would only ever ask her if they were backed into a corner with no other way out.

Connor’s interrogation had been brutal - Markus hadn’t expected him, and the police, to know so much. He had even been pressured into giving up his real identity, something that had served to his advantage countless times. Connor’s intelligence, sharpness and logical reasoning shone through in an almost clinical way, a way that Markus could kind of see why he was widely regarded as a ‘machine’, even if Markus had said otherwise. Not that it was a bad thing; he could tell Connor had a heart of gold - he had listened attentively to Markus’ persuasions, he had seemed swayed, even if he had stayed firm in what he did. No, perhaps it was a conditioning of sorts; conditioned to cast away his emotions, perhaps? Conditioned to take control.

Markus was struck by how much he wanted to know about this man. He was an enigma, layers and layers pulled away to reveal tiny, tantalising pieces. 

“They want Zlatko, and they’ll give you what you want if you uphold your end of the deal. Go make your phone call; we’ll handle the legalities, and we need the identities of your ‘friends’ as well.”

Markus grinned, letting out his breath in a whoosh of relief. “Great! Thank you, Connor, you’re amazing.”

Connor looked almost bashful. A little bit guilty, even? “I didn’t do anything. I was the one who caught you in the first place, after all.”

He led Markus out to the payphone. Markus dialled North’s number; she picked up with a click. “Hello?”

“Markus!” North sounded frenetic. “Fuck, I'm so sorry, we should've waited for you! where are you? How are you? What’s going on? Josh said you had a plan?”

“Don’t worry North, I’m fine. Put me on speaker.”

“Markus!” Josh and Simon's voices flooded his ear, the former overwrought, latter anxious. 

“Markus, I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t realise there were alarms at the back, I thought I had disabled all of them-”

“I didn’t want to leave you, Markus I’m sorry-”

"Guys, it's okay. It's my fault, I should've scouted the place more thoroughly. I've got a plan. Can you get Kara for me? Transfer the line over to her. I need to talk.”

“What, why?” North said. 

Markus angled away from the rest of the station, shielding his body so they couldn't read his lips. In a quiet voice, he said, “Zlatko. I’m using it as leverage for immunity for all of us."

Markus braced himself for their reactions. Sure enough, all three of them exploded. 

"Are you _insane_ -"

"That's a _stupid, reckless plan_ -"

"Why didn't you tell us _anything_ about that?"

"Because Zlatko's a very dangerous psychopath?" Markus suggested. "And don't worry, it's going to work."

"As far as your 'plans' go, Markus, this may possibly be the worst one yet," Simon said. Ouch, even Simon was getting on his case? 

"Yet my plans always work," he countered. That wasn't strictly true, but he somehow doubted pointing that out would help his case. "So can you get me Kara?"

"If you go to jail, I'm stabbing you," North said shortly, and then there was another click and the sounds of ringing before another person picked up, a sweet female voice.

"Hello?"

"Kara, hello, sorry to disturb. I know it's late."

"Markus, hey!" Kara didn't sound too surprised. "No, no worries, I've put Alice to bed already. We got the money you gave us; she's happy in school, making lots of friends."

"That's good to hear," Markus said with feeling. 

"That's all thanks to you."

"No, Kara, it's your care of Alice. She'll grow up to be a lovely woman, just like her mother." 

It was silent for a second. "Thank you, Markus. You're here for Zlatko's location, right? I'll give you the coordinates."

Markus laughed sheepishly. He saw Connor watching him from the corner of his eye. "Am I that obvious? I'm really sorry, Kara, to burden you like this. I know it's not safe."

"Zlatko's tried to track us and Luther down many times, and he's failed," Kara said. "It's time to bring him down, and it's better soon than never, considering it's only a matter of time before he shifts his main base. Don't worry about us, Markus. I'll never let anything happen to Alice, and neither will Luther."

"I know you won't," Markus said. "And Kara? Thank you. Say hi to Luther and Alice for me."

"Anything for you, Markus. You helped us when no one else did." The gratitude was palpable in her voice. "Take care of yourself, alright? Here are the coordinates..."

He slammed the receiver down, and Connor looked up expectantly. "Well?"

Markus beamed cheekily, triumphantly. "Got it. Give me the deal to sign, and I'll give the coordinates to you and your precious justice system to handle, no matter how much I doubt he's going to get the penance he deserves."

Connor wasn't deterred. "How reliable is this information? The deal also mentions that if Zlatko isn't caught, you won't be given immunity. That means you'll be exposing your friends' identities for nothing."

An anxious snake wiggled in the pit of his stomach, but Markus squashed it down. "That won't be a problem, because he'll be there."

Connor didn't look convinced. “You haven’t answered my question. How did you get the info?”

“Someone I know, along with her daughter, was captured by Zlatko and was about to be killed when they escaped with the help of another guy working for Zlatko. They didn’t have money, or a place to stay, or somewhere they could hide from him, so she went to us - Jericho - and we helped her out. She’s reliable.”

Connor snapped on handcuffs. "Time will tell. Go back to the holding room."

Markus couldn't resist. "Oooh, handcuffs? Kinky."

Connor gave him an unimpressed look, but Markus saw him fumble slightly when clicking the handcuffs shut. Huh. Not so straight, then? 

Markus tried again. “Go on, lead the way. Make sure I don’t trip over anything and fall for you.”

“You’re not funny, Markus.”

“Oh, fuck, I can’t beleive you’ve done this. Insulting my humour? That wasn’t very cash money of you.”

“Watch yo’ profanity.”

“Not today, Satan.”

Their conversation was attracting stares; a few officers were watching the back and forth interestedly. The moody detective from earlier - Gavin, was it? - groaned loudly. “Shut the fuck up (author’s note: detroit evolution reference, anyone?), before I kill one of you.”

“I’m a bad bitch, you can’t kill me,” Markus and Connor replied at the exact same time, Markus straight-faced and Connor with a [ wink ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZB0ZPWPQTuU).

Detective Gavin made a disgusted face and spat on the floor before walking away, muttering something that sounded like ‘can’t believe we’re giving that jackass immunity…”

“Don’t worry, he’s always like that,” Connor said, answering the unspoken question. “He loves me. Ours is a bromance for the ages.”

Markus snickered. “I can see that.”

Back in the dark room, spartan and bare and cold, Markus and Connor fell into a thoughtful silence, both of them lost in their own thoughts about the other, sneaking the occasional glance in. Markus resisted the urge to pace; he was patient, but his Connor was putting him on a slight edge.

“Can I have a sketchbook and a pencil?” Markus asked. “I want to draw.”

Startled, Connor hesitated before giving in and leaving the room for a short period of time. He came back with Markus’ request.

“Thank you,” Markus said, taking it gratefully. He knew most cops would’ve just either ignored him or chewed him out for making demands; but then again, Connor wasn’t most cops. Just the feeling of a pencil in his hand had his whole body relaxing, enough to flash Connor a grateful smile. Small, and private. Connor did a strange double take; Markus flipped open to a new, clean page and began sketching.

“Markus, can I ask you something?”

Markus didn’t pause, the scratch of pencil lead on paper a comforting sound. “Of course, Connor. Anything. What is it?”

“I’ve been thinking. About what you said earlier, regarding your whole vigilante group.”

“Uhuh,” Markus said, adding a little detail to the curl of hair. “And?”

“And I want to know,” Connor said. “Why resort to crime? Is it because it’s the easiest way?”

Markus shaded in the lip. “Well, there are several reasons, I guess.”

Connor shook his head. “Have you ever considered becoming an activist? A politician? You’re the leader of Jericho, despite only just joining, right? You have good leadership skills. You’re eloquent and charismatic; people will want to follow you.”

“You flatter me.” Markus looked up, capturing the slight frown as Connor talked animatedly, deep in thought. But Connor wasn’t done. 

“It’s a perfectly legal way to make a change in the world. If you were out there, I would support you to the very end, as would many others, I’m sure. Right now, even as people support Jericho from the sidelines, they are unable to do so openly, as you are, by definition, criminals - if you give them a chance to assist, share your ideology and get opportunities for a far bigger reach than those you can help right now…”

“It’s a brilliant idea, one that I’ve considered and brought up to the rest, but it was quickly shot down.” Markus wasn’t defeated about it, he just quirked one shoulder and flipped the pencil over to erase part of Connor’s insanely long eyelashes to redraw. “After all, we don’t have the means - Jericho decided early on to only keep the bare minimum of money and the occasional treat for ourselves, and given their... criminal activities, we could hardly go out as politicians; background checks, stuff like that...that might set back our cause, rather than help it move forward, and even if we used the money, someone would eventually find out it was dirty money, right? And then we’d be screwed.”

Connor rummaged in his pocket for something, and then pulled out a coin. Rolling it across his knuckles impressively in a just slightly arousing way, he said, “What if, after you’ve cleared your names, I fund you guys to put together a team? I have a lot of money from my old company I used to work for, Cyberlife, sitting in my bank for something worth using.”

Markus’ pencil stilled.

Was Connor serious?

“You-” Markus furrowed his brow. “Connor, I can’t ask you to do that. I know you don’t exactly-”

“I’m doing it of my own volition. I know your thoughts about our system, but I joined the system in the first place because I wanted to help others, wanted to make a difference. You can do that, Markus, I’ve seen you - think of it as an investment.”

Markus gripped the pencil so tight it almost broke. “Connor, I...thank you. That’s great. I’ll talk to Jericho.”

Conflicting emotions warred inside of Markus; confusion, wariness, gratitude, shock, hope - Markus clung onto the last one, the way he did best. Before he realised it, the whole composition of his sketch had changed. From a simple copy of Connor's face, to a front view of Connor in a suit, glinting LED on the side of his head, wind blowing through his hair as he aimed a gun at something unseen with one hand. Behind him, Markus added something new; another man who was grabbing the offered gun from Connor's other hand, face concealed except for another LED on the side of his face, long trench coat brushing the floor slightly, swaying in the breeze, both of them standing back to back in a battle stance, surrounded by black-clad soldiers. 

"Why do you keep looking up?" 

Markus accidentally broke his pencil lead at Connor's question. No matter, he was more or less done anyway. "I'm drawing you."

Connor, obviously not expecting the frankness, just replied with an 'oh'.

"Want to see?" Markus offered, sliding the drawing over to him. Connor scrutinised it unblinkingly; if Connor really had an LED, it would be yellow in processing, Marcus thought jokingly. 

"You're... really good."

"Thank you, although I'd say the credit goes to Carl."

"I don't think that's completely true." Connor waved a hand like he could wave away modesty. "The symbolism is too rich to not be your own original piece of work. What's with the LED, though-?"

"Machine, right?" Markus explained. "That's you. I drew one for me too, look - if someone like you were a machine, I would have to be one as well. Perhaps we're fighting for the freedom of androids. These soldiers - these are the obstacles we have to defeat to reach our goal, to make the change we want to see. Here, you're passing me the gun; that's you giving us the means."

Connor ran a hand over the drawing almost reverently, like it was a fragile thing. "Amazing. This looks almost exactly like me."

"Well, I've had a lot of practice in staring at your face," slipped out of Markus' mouth almost automatically. Luckily, Connor didn't really seem to mind. "Your grasps of light and shadows are incredible; it's like the picture is jumping to life."

"Aw, you're making me blush."

“What’s this?” Connor was referring to a bunch of silhouettes at the side.

“Ah, right, I forgot you don’t know them. It’s Jericho. I think you’d get along quite nicely with North.”

Connor’s expression stayed neutral. “Is she...your girlfriend?”

Markus choked on his own saliva laughing. “North - my _what_?” Markus gasped for air. “I’m bi, but she’s as gay as can be. She’s lesbian.”

“I thought she was American,” Connor replied reflexively, but he seemed to relax minutely. Markus couldn’t help himself from seizing the chance, “How about you? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend, and no. Don’t exactly have much time; too busy chasing after horrible shoplifters and psychotic killers.”

“In my defense, I’m not a horrible shoplifter, it was my first time and I just needed some time to hatch a plan-”

“Most decent shoplifters don’t need ‘time to hatch a plan’.”

Meanwhile, Markus’ inner sanctum was exploding in a very gay panic. 

Now that he had immunity, Jericho could go clean from a life of crime and still make a difference, and he had no reason to avoid cops. Or avoid fucking cops. Except unless they were straight, but now even that barrier was gone...

 _Boyfriend_ , Connor’s voice played on repeat.

Boyfriend.

 _Markus_ was a boy.

No - not a boy. A man? Male? Guy? Dude? No not dude, he could call North dude too…but he could also possibly get a chance to bite that invitingly plush lips, he couldn’t do that with North - well, not unless he wanted to be punched. Wait, would Connor punch him too? Possibly, but it would be worth it to get just a taste...although once might not be enough-

“Markus. Markus, you okay?”

Markus blinked rapidly. “Huh?” 

“You spaced out. Are you feeling tired?”

“No, it’s not that.” _I was just considering how to get your pants off._ “I was just thinking.” _With my dick._ “I apologise.” _To the entire female population for missing the chance to get you._

_Markus, you’re the damn leader of Jericho. Get a grip. Up your flirting game._

“You know, Connor, you can keep the drawing.”

Connor looked downright alarmed. “No, I can’t. It’s yours.”

“I drew it mainly for you, anyway. I could always draw some more, too, although I don’t think I could ever properly capture your beauty.”

“I think you captured everything - my facial features, the pressed suit, the shading - just fine, Markus. Have more confidence in yourself.”

 _Gahhh_. “I was complimenting you, Connor. Never mind, just keep it.”

He shook his head stubbornly.

Markus, equally stubborn, tore out the page in the notebook neatly, ignoring Connor’s scandalised death stare. He twisted his hands at the top of the page threateningly like he was going to tear the page. “So?”

Connor snatched it back. “Don’t you dare.”

Markus grinned in victory as Connor folded and tucked the paper away.

Then both of them gave a start when there were whoops and catcalling from the outside.

“What the-?” said Markus. Connor frowned and stood up, opening the door; Markus craned his neck to see what was going on. Immediately, he saw the whole police station go from watching them to snapping back to work in a second, as if they hadn’t obviously been caught observing them through the interrogation glass like the two of them were some sort of television drama. show

Connor didn’t seem to care, he just closed the door and sat back down. “Hm.”

Markus felt his face flame. Great, they had now seen his terrible attempts at flirting - he needed to up his game. He thought for a second and then braced himself.

“Connor, are you a parking ticket?”

“What?”

“Because you’ve got fine written all over you.”

There was a very pregnant silence, from both inside and outside of the room. Connor stared at him.

“Connor, is it not ironic?”

“Wha-”

“That I’m here for being a thief, but you’re the one who’s stolen my heart.”

Markus swore he heard someone boo from the outside. 

“ _Con_ nor-”

“Please stop!” yelled someone.

“More like con _man_ , because you’ve tricked me into giving away my heart to you.”

“Markus?”

Markus stopped. “Yes?” he said, “Is it working?”

“If you were really an android, like in your drawing, you would be just like Siri. Because you autocomplete me.”

There were about a dozen simultaneous groans from the rest of the avidly watching station. Markus himself flushed in shock from the sudden reverse-uno card, but recovered fast.

“You must be a camera because everytime I look at you I smile!”

“You’re definitely a loan, because you’ve got my interest.”

“I’m glad I don’t need a library card to check you out.”

“I may not be a photographer, but I can still picture us together.”

“Your name should be Ariel, because we mermaid for each other.”

“You said you weren’t tired earlier, so you must have very good stamina, since you’ve been running through my mind for a while now.”

“Si tu veux savoir pourquoi je te suis, c’est parce que mon père m’a toujours dit de poursuivre mon rêve.”

“Masz patent ratownika? Bo utonąłem w Twoim spojrzeniu.”

Damn. He got that, and German too? Of course he did. “Impressive. You’ve mastered several tongues, how ‘bout you master mine as well?”

“I would think my tongue could be better used in other places.”

Oops, they were running into full on porn dialogue now. Markus switched tack.

“If looks could kill, you’d be a weapon of mass destruction.”

Connor picked up the pencil with the broken lead. “Talking about destruction, you’re like the lead and I the pencil; life without you is pointless.”

“You wouldn’t even have a life without food. Do you want a raisin? No? How about a date?”

“Did your driving licence-” Connor paused sharply. "Hold on, are you serious?”

What kind of question was that? Markus tilted his head at the detective. “I mean, yeah. We need food to survive-”

“No, I meant about the date.”

Oh. 

_Oooooh_. 

Oh _shit_. Was this really happening? “I mean. Only if you want to.” Markus made an awkward gesture with his hands. “After all this. We can go to the amusement park or something. Or dinner. Or an art gallery. Whatever you want.”

“Just make out already!” called one of the police officers. Markus cringed.

“Shut up, Chris!” This was the first time Markus had seen Connor look truly embarrassed, and Markus really couldn’t fault him. Were his own ears turning pink? Probably. “I wouldn’t mind. Going on a date with you, I mean,” he clarified, as if Markus didn’t know. “That is, if you agree to stop getting into trouble with the law.”

Markus’ stomach did a weird flip-flop, even as he smiled teasingly. “Well then, Connor, for that enthusiastic response, of course I will.”

They looked right into each other’s eyes for a second, green and blue meeting brown. The rest of the police station erupted in cheers and cries of ‘finally!’ and at least one ‘why are they such dumbasses’. This time, Markus and Connor both turned towards the glass with matching lours, cheeks tinged pink.

“Shut up!” 

  
  


Bonus epilogue: 2 years later

An excerpt from a brief, exclusive interview with Markus Manfred

Interviewer: So, elections are coming up. How do you feel having gone from being presumed dead, being forced to live in a junkyard injured and bleeding, then finding and becoming the leader of the vigilante group Jericho to where you are right now?

Markus: *small shrug* I’d have to thank the people in my life for that. A shout out to my father, wherever he may be in the afterlife, for making me into the man I am today. To North, Simon and Josh, for being the best friends I could ask for and an incredible team; they help me handle most of my election campaign. And to my boyfriend Connor, of course, for not only helping make all this possible, but for dragging my ass out of bed everyday. Without him we would probably still either be robbing banks or sitting in jail. *sings, pointing at camera* I love you bitch, I ain’t never gonna stop loving you, bitch.

Interviewer: What?

Markus: No, sorry, it’s this thing we do where we quote vines- *waves hand* nevermind. 

Interviewer: *blinks, looking disconcerted* Okay, well. You’re quite active in movements, especially those regarding social and humanitarian rights, correct? You just recently made a speech on LGTBTQ+ pride.

Markus: Well, yes. After all, it’s the whole reason I joined Jericho, then took up politics. To advocate, to tell people that they _can_ help to make a change. That they can make a _difference_. That no matter how much people tell you otherwise, you are _more_ than what they say. That there _are_ people out there, struggling. Struggling because no one is helping them, even though we have the power to - we need them to open their eyes. We need them to _see_ , to be aware. And if it has to start small, start in this country, I’m happy with that. I have confidence that those supporting us will assist us on our journey as well.

Interviewer: *still bemused* A-ah, right. You are a _very_ good speaker. Now… some people have expressed concern over your criminal past. What do you have to say about that?

Markus: *makes a face* Nothing I’m proud of. I really am sorry about all that. At that time, I saw it as a means of helping, in my own twisted way. Connor helped show there was another way - a better way, in fact. I’m just a figurehead at this point, honestly; he helps me so much sometimes half the things I do or say are courtesy of him. He works from the shadows but he’s every bit as amazing as I am - no, even more so.

Interviewer: That’s very modest, but sweet. You love him very much.

Markus: Of course. 

Interviewer: How did the two of you meet? An ex-criminal and a cop, together against all odds. It’s very Shakespeare-esque, don’t you think.

Markus: *laughs embarrassedly* It’s a long story. Josh and North - Simon kinda just stayed neutral - convinced me to try shoplifting for the first time to get sweets for Clara’s - a child at the orphanage - birthday. When I ran out of the store, I bumped into Connor, scattering sweets everywhere and screaming ‘RUN RUN TAKE ALL YOU CAN CARRY’ and Connor just kind of did, chasing after me, although I escaped almost the second I realised he was a detective. It was a pity, I thought, that such a cute guy had to be a cop. The second time we met was when he brought me into the station but I eventually got released and things just kind of went on from there.

Interviewer: How did you get released, though?

Markus: With a help of a friend *glances at camera* and the ex-crime boss Zlatko, who’s currently serving a life sentence in prison at a max security prison. I’m just glad he didn’t walk free.

Interviewer: People have nicknamed you RoboJesus after your speech on androids and machines, what do you- *glances at something behind camera* I- no, it's- yes. *bites lip and looks back* Oh no, it looks like we’ve run out of time. Thank you for coming, Markus. Good luck in the upcoming elections, and I wish you and Connor all the best.

Markus: *grins, stands and shakes interviewer’s hand*. No, thank _you._ Take care, and don’t worry - Connor and I are _just fine_. 

Markus gives one last secretive, sly smile and winks at the camera as he walks away.

**Author's Note:**

> -I feel like because Connor didn’t really know Markus at the start and saw him as a criminal more than anything before Markus talked to him about stuff not being fair and how they used the money to kind of convince him to his point of view (like how Markus had the ability to help Connor deviate), so his attitude towards Markus when Connor first met him and brought him to the station and stuff was pretty different than in the game since the circumstances were vastly different.
> 
> -I also wrote Markus as also more playful/happier (still very jaded, of course, but with more time to relax) and Connor a little less straight-laced/more expressive (haha, he’s anything but straight tbh), since they were able to kind of develop themselves a lot longer than what they had in the game when they were only deviants/properly ‘alive’ for a short while.
> 
> -I don’t know if I got the police proceedings and legality and stuff like that completely right so my bad, guys.
> 
> Ps: I totally googled some of the ideas for pick up lines. Also, vine references anybody?


End file.
